The sun set drenching the room in its light. The old floorboards creaked under her feet as she walked to the window, pulling the silk drapes down. 

She had not left the house for many weeks and the passing of time had lost all meaning. 

The people in her life where resembling shadows and shadows do not leave much to miss. They seem to stand silently beside you, offering you a glimpse of the person, yet when dark times inevitably fall they vanish.

The more she learnt of truth, she realised all she knew was lies. 



Sketching my Map

At the innermost core of all loneliness is a deep and powerful yearning for union with ones lost self. – Brendan Francis 

The pale blue sky stretches in to eternity above me, the moon faintly forms a crescent and the sun sets to the west. An aeroplane flies past, it almost seems fake, unrealistic as it glides to the pink clouds. “I wonder where they are going? Who’s on board” I muse to myself. 

Through out my life I have been there, gliding thousands of feet above the reality below. If not a majority of each year  was spent shuffling through one airport to the next. It has become my comfort zone, I walk through airports, with the lost travellers looking for direction, foreign languages intoxicate the air, I feel at peace. 

A huge sense of relief spreads through me as I sit in the lounges, coffee in hand, jet lagged and exhausted. The exhaustion turns into my fuel, a promise of a new adventure, a new beginning my drug. 

For the majority of my life, I have been neither here nor there, running away from my past and myself. With the thick humid air of the deserts that stretch beyond me, I flutter. 

It is only when you are lost, that you can find yourself. 


Nostos Aglos

“The Greek word for “return” is nostos. Algos means “suffering.” So nostalgia is the suffering caused by an unappeased yearning to return.” – Milan Kundera

As the city lights glimmer a mosaic of stars scatter across the dark sky, rain hits the pavements whilst people take cover under umbrellas and soggy newspapers. The moon is almost full and its hypnotic energy seduces the bustling streets.

My heels pound against the wet cobblestone road, my eyes follow passing travellers, I search for the rich smell of coffee and the meaning behind all that is life.

Some nights the collective force of every person seems to haunt the nights sky, a lighting bolt of energy pulsing through my veins, holding a nostalgic memory or a feeling that is universal. I yearn to return to wherever it is where I am from, no matter what country or city my body wonders, I yearn for something just slightly out of reach.

Thunder jolts me back to the physical reality, people jump with fright and smile, the drizzling rain continues.



“In India when we meet and part we often say, ‘Namaste’, which means: I honour the place in you where the entire universe resides; I honour the place in you of love, of light, of truth, of peace. I honour the place within you where if you are in that place in you and I am in that place in me, there is only one of us.” – Ram Dass

This is not my first, nor my second, not even third blog, and I highly doubt it to be my last attempt at scrawling my thoughts and musings down in blog format. Like life, there is no right or wrong path in writing, and you are allowed an infinite number of beginnings. 



An 18 year old girl named Toni-Yvonne who floated North to South in search of something, and in some ways running away from herself.

From seeing the sun set across Europe, and the vast deserts that blanket the Middle East, she has racked up impressive air miles and a love for airports.

A blending pot of cultures and experiences, this is her take on life, lessons and everything else that crosses her mind.